Comforted Son
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: "Eym?" Anthony whispered, barely louder than a breath. "Can you tell me 'bout the flowers?" (BAON fill)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please utilize understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note(s):** I should be working on my HC fills. But I really needed a bit more of tiny!Tony. So I figured that I would share.

 **By Any Other Name Challenge:** **  
Fill Number:** 03 **  
Representation(s):** Jarvises/Starks; Fertility Issues **  
Bonus Challenge(s):** Non-Traditional; Found Family; Second Verse (Not a Lamp) **  
Word Count:** 1347 (Story Only); 1357 (Story & Epigraph)

-= LP =-  
Comforted Son  
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"Motherhood is… difficult and… rewarding." – Gloria Estefan  
-= LP =-

Ana woke when the blanket in front of her was yanked away, creating a draft. A moment later, she was smacked in the face by what could only be Bashiremen, which meant that the small body squirming after the stuffed golem was her little bug. Without opening her eyes, Ana lifted the blanket out of the way of the toddler. Anthony crawling into bed with her and Edwin was a common occurrence in the months since the attempted kidnapping. Even creating the soft toy that he now refused to sleep without had done little to stem the recurring nightmares.

Honestly, she didn't even mind the blows to the face when Anthony lost control of the green toy, despite how the glass sand-like beads mixed with the cotton stuffing gave the thing more _umph_ than a standard teddy bear. There were worse things to possibly deal with than the occasional tender nose. She draped the blanket over them as he settled into the dip in the bed next to her body. Bashiremen is trapped between their bodies, with Anthony's tiny arm holding the golem beneath the blocky head.

She'd take interrupted sleep over his loss any day.

"Eym?" Anthony whispered, barely louder than a breath. She hummed an answer as she rubbed her nose through his hair. He gently gathered the neckline of her nightgown in his fist, dragging his thumb over the embroidery. "Can you tell me 'bout the flowers?"

"Of course, little bug," she agreed. Ana pressed her palm against his back so that he would be able to feel her fingers move in an abbreviated match to her words. Then she began to describe van Gogh's _Sunflowers_ in a soothing flow. Anthony relaxed deeper into the mattress as she worked her way through a description of every piece by Vincent van Gogh which featured the flower as its subject.

These long descriptions of famous artwork were something that was just theirs. Edwin had tales of kings and knights, of heroes and heights. Dr. Wilkes had tales of California sun and laboratory misadventures. Mr. Dernier and Mr. Jones both share stories from their long military careers which slot neatly into the ones Miss Carter and Howard share from the war (on the rare occasions they were there). Maria has started sharing her own tales of Italy and the many, _many_ saints and martyrs. (Maria has been trying so hard since that night, but motherhood was still not something she felt comfortable doing.) Anthony adored all the stories, listening to all of them with rapt attention. But art was something that was _just theirs_ and as much as she applauded her clever little bug learning to interact with other people, she was glad to be the only one he asked these questions.

Anthony only asked for van Gogh's flowers when he was most frightened, though the artist in general was a favorite. Ana had worked through most of the truly famous great artists even in just the few years of Anthony's short life. She had no illusions about her singing ability, so instead of lullabies, she had given the boy what she knew best. Through sharing the great masters, she fell in love with them again herself. Dr. Wilkes had confirmed that the same thing was happening with the poets he shared to counterbalance the science that Anthony adored. The toddler had a particular way of looking at things, of making connections.

Edwin stirred as she was starting the last of the Paris Sunflowers. Immediately, Anthony sat up to peer over her side at him. The motion made the stuffed golem thump against her breasts, momentarily knocking the breath from her. Why had she added the weighted stuffing again? The toddler squirmed over her side to get to her husband, careless of where his knees and feet were in the way that only children were.

"Jarvis! You's awake! Bashy wants 'cakes! Can we have 'cakes?"

"Oh, I don't know, scamp," Edwin replied, surprisingly aware for having just awoken. She shifted onto her other side to keep her eye on her boys. Edwin was laying on his back with Anthony perched on his stomach. Bashiremen was nestled between the boy's spread legs, his green fabric contrasting dynamically with Edwin's burgundy pajamas. "Can you ask again without shouting?"

"Yes, I _can_ ," Anthony answered, "but I don't wanna and Dum says not ta lets nobody push me 'round."

"Does he really?"

"Uh-huh, and I need to 'ways listen ta Peggy or she'll shoot me 'cause she ain't 'fraid of nothing and nobody."

"I assure you, poppet," Edwin said very solemnly, "if Miss Carter shot you, she would have genuine cause to fear many things." He glanced at her before the corner of his lips twitched into a crooked grin. "Like Ana before her coffee."

"Oh, _no_ ," Anthony said in a horrified tone. Ana should probably be insulted that a child not even four knew how poorly she handled things before she had at least one cup of coffee, but the sheer drama infused in the two syllables went a long way to undercutting any ire she could build. Besides, Edwin was not wrong about how she would react to _anyone_ firing a weapon towards her bug. As it was, she was going to have words with Mr. Dugan about appropriate things to tell children. Anthony distracted her from the loose plans formulating for how to go about said conversation by scrabbling over her towards the door.

The golem hit her in the forehead this time.

"We've gotta make Eym some coffee, Jarvis," Anthony announced as he wiggled off the bed, "and we's gotta sing or it don't count as proper."

The boy and stuffy left but the screechy off-key rendition of _Iron Man_ was still audible even from another room. Edwin looked at her and raised a single eyebrow. She pushed at his shoulder jovially before rolling out of bed to grab her dressing gown.

"He must have heard it on the radio," she denied. "You know how he is with mimicry."

"Methinks the lady doth protests too much," Edwin countered to her back. "And I do believe that he gets his singing voice from you, wife."

"Oh, yes, because that's how inheritance works," she returned drily. Ana lingered in the doorway a moment, watching as Anthony did an enthusiastic but off-beat dance down the hall. She didn't dare turn back as she asked a question that still haunted her from time to time, even so many years later. "Do you ever regret that we… that _I couldn't_?"

"My lovely Ana," he said, pulling her gently against his chest. She could feel his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. For a moment he simply cradled her in arms still strong even at his age. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "I faced the horrible idea of living in a world without you, not just once but many times. Decisions which I made, situations I had a hand in creating, have caused you pain on many levels and that I do regret. Seeing you with Anthony… you should have had the chance to have this before now and providing that for you would have been a privilege I would have relished. I regret that the chance was stolen from you, but I will _never_ regret having your companionship these years."

"Do not make promises you may not be able to keep, husband," she replied, mostly out of habit at this point. She felt him press a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Oh, but this one is nothing like that demon-dog you wanted. Loving you is as natural as breathing, my dear, and I shall do it with every breath in my body. Only death shall stop me, and even then I shall keep on loving you until even the souls of the stars themselves die of old age. Never shall a black flag fly for you, my lady love."

"Romantic fool," she scoffed as she leaned further into his hold.

"For you? Always."

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
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End file.
